Into the great Himyari unknown

[Ivernia]

This is actually the third part of this story, and the first two parts are back in

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. I'm continuing it here on a separate thread though as it forms into a specific story.

The Ivernish has spread beyond the borders of the Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth. meeting with various of the tribes beyond the line. Searching for a tribe amicable enough to talk with the High Kingdom and ambitious enough to stake a claim in those lands. These needs brought the Ivernish to the tribe of the Ashari. Through the wet and hot rainforest the Ivernish reach out For land, for gold, for the High Kingdom.

The crate was brought out into the clearing. A meeting place between the Ashari and the Ivernish, it was frugally equipped. A table, some chairs - there was not much that could be brought out this far into the rain forest.

Conan's men slammed the crate down on the table.

''Commander O'Branagain's finest of course''

Conan pulled the lid of the crate, and threw it to the ground. It made a soft thud when it hit the undergrowth.

He looked up at the Ashari Chief, who was inspecting the rifles in the crate.

''You know how to use rifles, yea? These are Ivernish made, they're some of the best in the world, they are''

They are almost the worst, Conan thought to himself. Even the Ivernish military buys Franconian. Good enough for these barbarians though.

The Ashari muttered to his translator, who then attempted to talk to Conan in his best Ivernish.

''The guns.. we are to try. We have... cautiousness upon us. Allow us to try.''

''Right right I get it, you want a trial eh? Fine we have a spot to fire them. Come on''

Conan mentioned to a path across the clearing. Two Ivernish soldiers picked up the crate and brought it to the edge as the chief with his men followed. Conan followed behind the chief with more troops.

The path led to another clearing. Clearing's were expensive to make in the jungle - the Ivernish had men with machete's cutting for three days to make this base to meet with the Ashari. Between the terrible hot wet heat and the insects and diseases, these clearings were uncommon.

The Ashari Chief handed the rifle to one of this men. After it was loaded and cocked, the Ashari aimed it at a hay bale across the way. Conan held his breath for just a second.

A resounding pattering and a flash of fire and the hay bales went up in clouds. The rifles worked, thank God. Looks like the sale is closed.

The Ashari were pleased, at least from what the Arms Dealer could see. They dropped a case in front of Conan.

As he opened it he gasped, it was gold ore. It started to rain again. The heavy rain on the clearing soaked them straight away. The soldiers rushed to cover the crates of rifles and ammunitions, but Conan couldn't close his chest. His eyes were transfixed.

''You there, translator! Tell the chief, that if he brings us more of this, or better yet, shows us where he gets this from. We'll give him more weapons. All the weapons he wants. We'll help him form his Kingdom.''

 

[Ivernia]

Private Aengus could hear more movements in the bushes ahead. He tried to lay as silent as he could, prone on the ground. The wet, dirt and heat made him so uncomfortable that he could not lie still. He was having minor headaches and twitches in his hands but it helped him forget the fear to focus steadying his hands, so he had that going for him.

He kept his eyes on the Sergeant. Sergeant Alder was ahead of him, closer to the noise, the Sergeant was still as stone, waiting in the brush with his Sylvanian built SMG cocked and aimed further ahead. Visibility was very low and the team of seven men were far from their base.

Alder began to whisper to the others,

''They're moving away from this position. We gotta go 'round the hill and up halfway other side. Better view.''

Aengus breathed a sigh of relief and picked himself up. Hunched over the men moved as quitely as they could through the ferns and vines and suddenly up the terrain. After about 15 minutes of walking the were in a perfect spot to see an opening. Halfway up the hill they could see clearly though the trees to a very large clearing below. Aengus realised they had been walking around it the whole time, moving around the clearing in the think jungle. In the clearing was a tribal village. There was a handful of huts made from dried ferns, with men women and children present.

Alder broke the silence again, ''Alright we made it on time, ready your weapons men.''

Aengus aimed the SMG through the clearing and waited. Again he focused on steadying his hand, he tried to ignore the pain in his head and his chest.

All of a sudden a shouting could be heard. A shouting like a battle-cry, like some demented howling. In that moment Aengus saw tribal men burst though the ferns, holding spears, sheilds and makeshift blades and ran towards the village. The villagers screamed and began to flee.

''FIRE''

Aengus pulled the trigger and his SMG was blazing, his gun, and his comrade's guns aimed solely at the attacking tribals who were being mowed down by the counter-surpirse attack. Aengus saw as he passed the fire from the barrel over the men in the distance the blood bursting out of their dark uncovered skin and collasping onto the ground like rag dolls. The howling mixed with screams of pain and the thunder from his rifle to make the noises of hell. Aengus focused on keeping his hands from shaking.

What felt like a minutes was only a few seconds. While the burst of bullets was effective, the sortie of soldiers needed to reload their ammo after the full-auto fire. Aengus reached into his pack to pull our another drum bullet magazine and heard more gunshots.

It was more tribals, this time from the villager side, firing with only single shot Ivernish rifles they were managing to hold back the wave of invaders. With nothing but hide shields and spears the numbers bursting out of the forest were beginnning to thin very quicky. This time when the Ivernish soldiers were loaded they let out consistant bursts of fire from their position right into the bush. Eventually the men stopped coming, but the men on the hill and in the village held their positions for some time. The combat high keeping them from relaxing.

''Okay men at ease'' Sergeant Alder finally said. ''That's it I think, I don't think they're coming back. At least not today.'' The soldiers shouted down to the villagers to warn them they were Ivernish, and thank God Aengus thought, the Ashari soldiers at least recognise Ivernish. They headed down to the Ashari village to meet with the armed villagers.

Aengus learned that the name of the tribe of attackers, were the Ulumec tribe. Found further west, they were apparently one of the tribes Commander O'Branagain promised to make 'go away' for the Ashari Chiefs. He didn't know the names of the other tribes, Alder did and that was good enough for him. Aengus planned to point and shoot and follow orders and get out of the jungle. He really couldn't care less for these tribals. He sat down with his men in the center around the fire pit. Soon it would be evening and cool. Then the fire would be lit to drive away the insects. Heat from fire was comfortable and familiar to the Ivernish men. He could close his eyes and pretend he was home in Alderburgh in front of a hearth.

There was likely to be another attack in the night. Aengus never let go of his gun.

 

[Ivernia]

25 Kilometers west of the southernmost border of the
Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth

Open, arid terrain as far as the eye can see, the 250 strong troop of Ivernish soldiers marching along the plain. Sparse and dry grass and weeds crumbling under their footfall, great rolling mountains in the distance, bordering the horizon creating a great valley. These men moved through the middle of this, in a loose formation. The sun was bright - so bright the men had to squint their eyes, the air was dry - so dry the men's throats were hoarse and sore. The vista of land before them kept them at a neutral mood, and the pace was quick down through the vast valley.

Closer and closer, they were coming upon a structure. Down into the great valley the land was flat for miles, as the troop moved closer the structure was revealed; a building, made of bleached stone, with fortifications all around. A stepping stone into this new land for the High Kingdom.
Coming close up to the fort Ivernish soldiers were all around, building, maintaining or standing guard. As the troop of men approached they let a hail on the radio, so they were expected.

An officer moved out of the fort, to meet with the officer leading the troop of soldiers.

''Leifteanant MacFergus I believe!''

''Captaen MacAteer!'' The Lieutenant, despite his march, stood up straight and saluted his superior.

''Leifteanant, I had a radio about you. Reinforcements yes? So this is really it?''

The Lieutenant lowered his arm, but stood straight without wavering, ''Yes sir, *ahem* Sir. The Commander of the Himyari Brigade is coming here? Of all places.''

The Lieutenant, briefly distracted by the question nagging him half the march, remembered his situation.

''Sir, I have no other information, sir. What are my orders, for myself and my men?''

''Your men are at ease for now, to recuperate from the journey. Walk with me.''

The Lieutenant dismissed the sortie, allowing them to merge for the time being into the camp. The arrival of the 250 soldiers made quite a crowd that was beginning to disperse, creating clouds of dust as people scuttled about. As the two officers walked the Lieutenant could see behind the large fort a great deal of tents and camps for men.

''Captaen MacAteer, to think that Briogáidire-Ghinearál O'Branagain was coming out here to this place.''

The two men walked through the 'yard' of the fort, soldiers either remembering to salute or too busy with sandbags or boxes to notice went by in a rush, the two officers had made their way to the east point. Sandbags piled up, with rudimentary stairs and structures, weak from the poor wood they were cut from. As the officers eased their way up this watch point the two heavy machine gun men stood to attention, and then were put back to their watch.

''Yes and you're just the first part of this. Look, over, back the way you came. The B-G will be coming through there with the Cavalry Corps. Nothing exciting just a few pieces. He'll be meeting with us then pushing further west, not our concern why. But you have to know to move your men, half on either side along the valley. Take positions, make yourself unseen, hold them. You're scout and snipers and all manner of the sort, yes? Just make sure nothing comes down around our heads during and after the B-G makes an appearance.''

The Lieutenant stood straight again. ''Yes well we are ranger corps. This is what we do. Tell me, what's the threat. Nothing but natives round these plains as far as I've been told.''

The Captain shifted a little, then looked stern at the young Lieutenant ranger. ''We've been hearing rumours from intel. Himyari folk in this region aren't like the barbarians way up north in the jungles. Rumours they've been supplied and armed. Reports that the tribes inside our border are getting roused by some group out here. Maybe some reckless tribe, maybe a Kingdom even.''

The Lieutenant could tell. It was their job to push further into these lands. He was dismissed by his superior, he left to meet with his men in the mess hall, before joining fellow officers in a large tent set up. Tomorrow evening, when it was cooler they would move out, and scout for good positions, the Brigadier-General was coming with the cavalry in five days.

 

[Ivernia]

Along the sloping valley plains surrounding the road to Fort Whitestone
25 kilometers west of the southernmost border of the Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth

Leifteanant MacFergus had his head low to the ground. Lying prone in the scrub brush, he could not see the other Rangers across the valley, but he knew where they were. He held his Carbine under his chest as he crawled slowly forwards, so as not to ruffle his hiding spot.

The sun was up and it was straight noon. The heat was incredible and the sunlight was so strong, even the Leifteanant Ranger was forced to squint in the sunlight even though he had long ''adjusted'' to Himyari life. He kept his breathing low even though he wanted to desperately pant like a dog. He had water in a canteen, but it was on the ground behind him to keep his form slim and uncumbersome. The only shade in these parts were the scrub bushes, boulders and a few old termite mounds. Or at least he hoped they were old, there was one only a part-ways to his left.

Looking through the scrub he saw natives a distance away. They were also along the valley, muttering to each other in low voices that the Leifteanant could just pick up. He saw them putting something together but they had their backs to him. He slowly lifted his rifle out from underneath his stomach, and slowly maneuvered it, as slow as a continent, to his front. The scrub he was in was big, but the branches were wiry and painful. So in essence he figured he had picked his cover well. As did his fellow Rangers.

It was five days ago the Captaen, back at ''Whitestone Fort'' as it was called, told him of the Brigadier-General's plan to bring a small unit of the cavalry corps through the bottom of the valley to the fort. Once he was told of the threat of the armed natives his job was pretty much revealed to him. Watch the valley for these armed natives.

His men scouted the area over the five days, searching for some level of evidence of any possible attack. As strange as it was for MacFergus to consider. A native planning an ambush, let alone taking on a cavalry unit seemed preposterous to him. And yet he did his duty, although he walked the great plains in a very large radius he saw no evidence of an attack.

It was only an hour, by Mac Fergus' watch, before the arrival that almost from nowhere did these mysterious men descend into the valley, and all across it. At various locations scattered, MacFergus couldn't make heads nor tails of it. He sent Jervis back to Whitestone Fort to warn the rest, but he had to move slowly back. Besides he wasn't expecting a gunfight.

And so he watched. He simply didn't, or perhaps couldn't believe that these wild men could organise anything like an ambush of a military convoy. He needed to get a closer look. As simple as these creatures were, he didn't want to simply kill them off when they were likely just local gatherers he missed on this scouting. However, he certainly wasn't going to risk an attack. And so his rifle was aimed on them.

''Shoot only if you see my shot.'' He made his command clear to his men as they surrounded the groups of natives.

The convoy was coming. The pleasant silence of the bright and sunny day was perverted by the low rumbling from the distance. A massive dust cloud was being kicked up as a squad of small tanks, the cavalry corps, and presumably trucks behind them were rumbling along the wide flat base of the valley - the old dead river road - straight for Whitestone Fort.

The natives got louder as they heard it. The natives in front of MacFergus pulled up the object he couldn't make out before - it was a bazooka. The natives were now loading it. Mac Fergus could not believe his eyes.

The convoy!

MacFergus aimed his rifle and shot the native holding the bazooka clear in the chest. Blood burst out of him onto the two other wild men and they screamed in shock. As the Leifteanant shot one of the the dead man's comrades rapidly he could hear fellow Rangers beginning to fire.
The last two men knew where the bullet came from and picked up rifles of their own and ran for it. Diving into a bush MacFergus fired a few shots into it. At first the bush went silent, then shots fired out of it in MacFergus' direction.

They fired sporadically not exactly sure where MacFergus' was. He fired a few more times into their small hedge and heard more screams. Of pain this time. He got up to a crouching position and scanned the valley.

There were gunshots across it as natives were sprung upon and shot at. Many natives managed to fire back, and even find cover. The boulders making strong cover, the scrubs providing hidden. Mac Fergus rushed his way to the old termite mound and crouched behind it.
He heard the shouting of some natives in their heathen tongues just ahead of him, hiding behind a boulder. They fired at him and he fired back at them. He saw two Rangers moving to his position from behind and gave a sweeping fire in front of him for cover as the two men bundled up behind the mound with their Leifteanant.

''Kellensey, Tierney, status!''

''We heard your shot, confirmed it, then took ours. One of them got to his gun but he's down now. Harver is confirmed dead. Natives springing up everywhere. We saw some more coming into the valley. D'ya think Jervis has got back?''

''Regardless there's no way Whitestone isn't hearing this, so we just keep defensive positio-''

As the three Rangers took cover, the termite mound gave way to the gun fire, large chunks burst off of it in clumps and termites rained down of the men.

''Fire! fire!''

Across the valley was the same. Groups of the 40 or so rangers versus what was probably about 40 natives. While the Ranger's surprise attack took out a few - the natives, amazingly, had decent weaponry. Mac Fergus could even hear the rattling fire of an machine gun. His Rangers weren't meant for drawn out gun battles. The Fort better move out soon.

''Leifteanant sir!,'' Kellensey piped as he unloaded his SMG from behind the remnants of the termite mound, ''The cavalry's stopped sir!''

The trucks drove on full-speed through the dusty basin making a beeline for the fort. Kellensey's sight's were only half-right; three of the little tanks had stopped.

A flash of gunfire came from the boulder traitorously holding the natives safe, but not aimed at the three Rangers ahead of them, rather down the valley at one of the tanks. There was a very metal ping as the bullets bounced of it's thin but moderately effective armour. Mac Fergus could see the tank's little cannon whirring about towards the direction of the gunfire. It had been a long time since the Leifteanant had heard that whirring mechanical noise. It was haunting.

''Get down!'' As the three rangers balled up.

The natives behind the boulder, the very boulder itself, went up in an explosion as the tank scored a direct hit. The noise was deafening and a pounding ringing was in MacFergus' ears. A huge cloud of smoke poured down the valley as chunks of rock, dirt and chunks of the natives began to rain down. A loose thorax hit the crumbling termite mound and demolished what remained of it. Blood, dirt and more termites splattered over the Rangers.

Between the tankfire explosion, and MacFergus' fortune of securing the bazooka early in the gunfight, the natives clearly had their moral broken. As the natives furthest away began to ran, a small number of the natives were pounced upon by other rangers who dropped their guns and surrendered.

The tank cannon began to whirr once more. Mac Fergus sprinted back to his hedge and grabbed the radio inside of it. His message made on a common military channel.

''Friendly's in the valley, I repeat, friendly's in the valley. Hostiles secure! I repeat, the hostiles have been secured.'' MacFergus was out of breath, panting like a dog.

The radio chimed back ''Friendly's eh? Well somebody shot at us. Those ''armed natives'' I suppose?''

''This is Leifteanant MacFergus of the 3rd Rangers of Himyar. My men ambushed natives who were planning to ambush you. We're coming down slowly, the hostiles retreated from your tanks.''

''...''

MacFergus, crouched down next to his bush, panting like a dog, covered in blood and termites, felt a small pang of fear.

''Come on down. Slow as you like Leifteanant.''

 

[Ivernia]

Fort Whitestone
25 kilometers west of the Ivernish Himyari Commonwealth

When Leifteanant MacFergus made it back to Fort Whitestone he was thankfully allowed a grace period of a few days before the Briogáidire-Ghinearál eventually called for MacFergus to meet.

It was late in the evening and the sun was finally going down. An enormous ruby orb, as it crashed into the horizon it bathed the entire fortress in a crimson light. Across the white stone, the wooden posts and the guards calmly smoking at the watch posts there was a radiant red glow. It was MacFergus' favourite time of the day, as the burning heat from the midday sun was over, and just before the freezing cold kicked in. The Leifteanant-Ranger made his way across from the mess hall to the senior officer's tent where Kellensey was waiting at post outside.

Upon seeing MacFergus, Kellensey stood up straight and shuffled his SMG. ''Leifteanant Sir, the Briogáidire-Ghinearál is ready for you''

Mac Fergus muttered some words before making his way into the tent.

Commander O'Branagain was hunched over a large mostly yellowed sheet, presumably a regional map. The red glow from outside was replaced by the orange aura from the gas lamps, illuminating the Commander. He was a tall and very man, with thick grey hair. Well into his 50's, but the Commander clearly was an athletic military man, and not a school-officer. In stark contrast to the fellow next to him by the desk, Captaen MacAteer. MacFergus had never seen MacAteer out of the deep green of the officer garb. His upper-class Ivernish dialect made him the quite the classic officer stereotype in the soldier's eyes.
Choosing not to wear the traditional Officer dress, and instead wearing his desert camouflage showed the Commander was more comfortable in the field than pushing pencils around a desk. The Commander looked up from the map to see the entrance of the Ranger and moved to greet him.

''Briogáidire-Ghinearál O'Branagain!'' MacFergus stood to attention with the complimentary mandatory salute. ''Captaen MacAteer!'' Another salute for another officer.

''Frederick MacFergus of the 3rd Rangers of Himyar, a pleasure to meet you. I have you to thank for ambushing the ambush on my Cavalry?''

''Sir, yes based on your intel of course, the Ranger unit set up along thee valley. Within an hour of your arrival...''

MacFergus gave his debriefing. He was expecting to give this report and mulled his answer for the past two days. Not finding a single trace of the natives until an hour before show time, the advanced weaponry, the men he lost..

The prisoners he gained. The weapons secured from the dead natives. More intel.

''Oh yes the Natives we captured. Well it was quite a difficult interrogation period - if they can speak Ivernish they certainly didn't let on - but we managed to get some of them to point to this map. So now we have a general area, riiiight here.'' O'Branagain circled an area with his long finger slowly.

''Sir what will happen to those Natives anyways?'' MacAteer perused, looking up from the map.

''Nothing right now. We need to know more about this area most of them pointed to first. Is there a base? A meeting place for an arms dealer? Those weapons you secured, they were Ivernish made. Sub-standard products that have been circulating Himyar. But unless the Ashari turned on us and migrated 1500 kilometers to the south to fight us in guerrilla warfare we need to start thinking there's another supplier. Ivernish Mafia perhaps. It's not like them to operate down here though.''

The Commander furrowed his brow, and beckoned to MacAteer,

''This is the mission Captaen, you'll be taking MacFergus as your second, with his rangers, my men, and three Scorpions, that's half the cavalry I brought mind you, and you be heading for this location.'' O'Branagain put his finger once again on the almost worn out spot on the map.

''Sir yes of course sir.'' MacAteer stood to attention, then motioned to the Leifteneant, ''MacFergus, your Rangers will be a great asset to my team.''

''This team better not let me down MacAteer, news reports are beginning to surface about the attacks, so the little blackout I bought is over. We need results now before outside organisations start jumping all over this.

That's a demand from High Command by the by. I'm here on the field as a personal promise to the Marascal Machaire. Now listen Captaen, tune your radio to this frequency. You too MacFergus. I will not be in the dark, understood? No major fuck ups, and get results!''

After the logistics of the campaign was given out to the Captaen and the Leifteanant they were both dismissed. He lifted up a big box of a radio and slammed it onto the desk in the center of the tent. ''Tomorrow morning is showtime.'' He muttered to himself, as he attempted to work his radio box. There would be a long few days ahead for them all.

 

[Ivernia]

The Mission.

The morning of the mission was upon Fort Whitestone. Before sunrise, Leifteanant Frederick Mac Fergus was with his men, mounting a machine gun onto a jeep. The men worked well in the low morning light, as the whole valley was bathed in a dim quiet blue glow. Several men were loading water canteens and magazines into the jeeps. Mac Fergus was to get four jeeps for his rangers.

Beside them was a truck for more men, and in the distance Fergus could hear the Scorpions rumbling away past the shaky wooden battlements. Mac Fergus noticed Captaen MacAteer talking with some men as they boarded the truck. Both were ready to take off.

It didn’t take long at all to set off. MacAteer and MacFergus synchronised their radios to the command channel O’Branagain’s was using. Suddenly the two officers heard the rumbling increase. One of the Scorpions broke rank, and rumbled towards the jeep where the two men looked on. The Scorpion was quite the tank. Lightweight and low on armour, but quick and decent across poor terrain. The shot from a scorpion was more focused on anti-infantry and quick stings rather than fighting other tanks. As the tank lined up alongside the jeep the hatch on top opened. A man rose up through it. A middle aged man, with wiry black hair and a thick black mustache, contrasting his small dark eyes. His grease and oil stained clothes almost hid the fact he was wearing a military uniform at all. Mac Fergus could locate the Sergeant's stripes on his shouder. Sergeant O’Harper to be precise.

‘'Well look at these two boys’’ the Sergeant mouthed drolly while firing of a salute.
‘'Captaen MacAtter o’ course, sir, and uh, Leifteanent?''

‘'Mac Fergus, of the 3rd Rangers’’

‘'Ah fancy da coincidence! Same sorry fella harpin on my radio that time? Week past. Right affer I knocked that ambush off it’s feet lemme tell ya..’’

''Well Sergeant to be fair they were primed to strike you with explosive weaponry. You were lucky Mac Fergus here and his Rangers stalked out the site and snapped those bazooka’s off the tables before I lost one of the Commander’s Scorpions.’’ MacAteer could take so much of the windbag.

O’Harper’s mustache twitched as the man muttered something like ''my scorpions’’ under his breath.

''Leifteanant I respect the Rangers no end - but just leave the heavy lifting to us boys on this one eh?’’ As O’Harpers lip curled again he brought down the hatch on top of him. The rest of the cavalry had made a fair distance and he had to catch his own Scorpion up.

MacAteer looked to his second in command, with a knowing look. ''Don’t let O’Harper rub you the wrong way MacFergus. He’s good commission. Besides he has a point. We’re keeping no holds barred and coming at this with tanks up front. I’ll fill you in on the way. We got days of travel ahead of us.’’

* * *​

The desert sortie had been rolling for days. Mac Fergus riding in of the four jeeps for the rangers, with Kellensey on the wheel. Even though he was just the gun, even tolerating the ride was hard work. Poor suspension, no roof, no air conditioning were the hallmarks of Ivernish military jeeps. It was part of the reason Frederick made journeys whenever he could by foot. His ass was sore and this back was about to break.

Three days into mission, set for them by Commander O'Branagain, and they had made incredible distance. A squad of four jeeps, a truck and three tanks made their way across the Great Himyari Plains. While eyes to the horizon, the plains looked flat and east to traverse, it was actually a very rugged and course land. Tough scrub, boulders and intermittent holes interspersed the terrain making for a rough ride.

The sun was beating down the rangers as they blazed the trail. Keeping ahead of the rest of the sortie as scouts they constantly checked the map to see where they were and how far they needed to go. Closer and closer they got not only to the illusive location, but also to the point of no return. Eventually though the men had to stop. A kilometer from the location, Mac Fergus found it prudent to give his superior a call.

''Captaen MacAteer, this is Mac Fergus, we’re 3 kilometers from point. We’ll continue on foot.’’

''We’ll be to your jeeps shortly, over and out.’’ His little radio chirped back to him.

Even though they were sure there wasn't an Ivernish speaker for over a hundred miles - excluding Fort Whitestone - they kept the chatter brief. Mac Fergus was relieved. Not only could he get off the jeep and put his legs to work, he was also free of the micromanagement he always despised. Able to finally move out on his own volition, as he turned his radio down to whisper quiet, his men moved from the jeeps. He could almost feel the buzz as his men silently got to work unloading equipment and proceeding on foot.

At this distance they ran the risk of patrols, if any. Mac Fergus had no idea what he was marching on, and cover was low in the plains. Same as before they moved as quickly as their caution allowed them. As they moved closer and closer to the point O’Branagain gave them. Mac Fergus checked the map once more, they were a great distance from the Commonwealth, way out in no man’s land. True frontier. He saw the Northern border of Providence, the Free Cities colony, on the map, but it was just as sparse.

Suddenly a settlement appeared before the men. The Rangers fell flat. Behind cover, Mac Fergus pulled out his small telescope.

The Ranger saw the encampment in the distance. Like the foil to Fort Whitestone it stood. many huts made of sparse bush, hide and sticks were enclosed behind a stone wall. A building in the center, stone on the base with a wooden extension on top. He could see figures in the fort, weaponry in their hands. The armed natives.
''Captaen MacAteer, do you read me? We are at the location.’’

''Yes MacFergus what’s there?’’

''A fort. Stone wall, ‘bout 8 foot high, 50 or so meters radius? huts behind the wall. One stone building in the center. Probably the base. Armed natives patrolling inside.’’

''A fort you say? O’Harper owes me an Ór. Good, we’re moving in now. You remember the fort scenario. Get ready MacFergus, tanks and troops on your way for the western face. Stay low.’’

''Over and out Captaen.’’

Mac Fergus knew MacAteer’s plan. He planned to shock the natives just like at the ambush. Line up the scorpions in view of the fort, and blow the battlements. MacAteer expects a quick surrender from opponents so easily outmatched and outgunned. But Mac Fergus couldn't help but feel uneasy. A pressing in his gut. He remembered how he couldn't find their tracks, how they appeared like ghosts. How they retreated so quickly, it seemed tactical, not fear. These natives were more like soldiers and less like the bushwhackers they were all used to.

Mac Fergus had his men circle the fort. A long affair that took and in the sun a very hot one, but it put him almost on the opposite side the cavalry was coming. He was nestled in probably the only good piece of cover, himself with twenty of his men. He had a clear view of the point of the attack.

''Kellensey you had my scope last, hand it over.’’

Some quick ruffling on Kellensey’s part, and he had his telescope back.

Looking through, he could see the dust being kicked up by the telescope. O’Harper was going full speed.

* * *​

The noise from the tanks were noticed by the fort. A distant rumbling at first, but then a very distinct sound. Metal crawling across the ancient plains of humanity seemed almost wrong, almost unnatural to Mac Fergus. He could see in the distance the tanks. Lined up in row, a fair distance from the fort, but still very much in sight, and firing range of the fort they stood.

Mac Fergus pulled up the telescope. The truck had already let loose it’s men as Ivernish soldiers began maneuvering a distance again behind the tanks. All keeping low they looked like ants on a mission. Mac Fergus would never be able to tell which one was his Captaen.

A stalemate had begun, of sorts. The fortress was certainly making noise but no one was leaving. This was expected but still impressive for such simple minded peoples to show such fortitude in the face of such metal.

Then suddenly, so quietly, the whirring. The barrage was aiming. Clearly MacAteer was not interested in a stalemate.
''If it’s a base of operations, which is most probable, we’ll need to get them out of it as quickly as possible. We give them a moment and they’ll destroy whatever evidence or intel might be in their base.’’ The Ranger remembered his Captaen rattling on to him.

MacFergus remembered the briefing. Never expected something this grand. The base must have been even more then 50 meters ‘round.

The tanks had stopped aiming, the show was about to begin.

Like the side of a great galleon the tanks fired in unison. Three great bangs, immediately followed by the terrible howl as the shell cut through the air. Suddenly the connect, a crushing noise as the shells hammered into the stone, a crunch and the explosion, as dirt and rock was shot in almost every direction. Screams of terror from the men inside, shouts of shock. Maybe the Captaen’s plan was going to work after all.

As the dust settled, MacFergus saw the aftermath. The wall has received serious trauma. It was well and truly breached. Rocks covered the ground before the impact site. As macabre a thought it was, He couldn't see any dead natives.

Suddenly a second bang, followed by a pillar of smoke, a rocket-shot MacFergus guessed, rushing from the fort, aimed straight at the Scorpion line. MacFergus couldn't focus the telescope quick enough as the native’s shot from their bazooka struck one of the tanks. He could hear the dull metal ring, so loud, all the way from his position. Suddenly flashes of gun fire. The natives began to press down fire on the tanks. MacFergus focused the telescope. He saw smoke coming from the middle Scorpion, metal armour almost hanging off the front of the chassis. The Ivernish soldiers had fallen to prone. Crawling away from the tanks, and returning fire.

Clearly it was time for Plan B. To be fair to MacAteer, no one was expecting them to ever fight back.

''Rangers,’’ MacFergus turned to his own men. ''The Captaen’s scare tactic was a bust, it’s time for plan two. We’re going through a back door. Come on!’’

The Rangers hustled up. Making their way quickly and quietly as they could round the fort as the gun battle raged on in the front. The semi automatics, the rifles, MacFergus could hear them letting all rounds loose. Suddenly a rumbling, sounded like O’Harper wasn’t letting his cavalry play the sitting duck.

The Rangers kept low and rushed up to the wall of the fort. 8 foot tall, with a battle on the opposite side, the crouched men were nigh invisible. MacFergus had his back to the stone, surprisingly cool, it reminded MacFergus past his adrenaline of the heat bearing down on him. His fleeting human feeling lost as Kellensey came up with satchels in tow.

Kellesey meted out the Nobel 808, a green substance, like Plasticine, and a deadly explosive. With detonators in place on the wall, the men backed up considerably.

The men cocked their weapons. Timed with the Scorpions next shot, he could hide the sound of the explosion, winning the Rangers valuable time.

They waited, and then they heard the whirring again. One of O’Harpers tanks at least was fighting fit, he didn't seem the man to back his Scorpions out of a fight.

''Wait for it..’’ MacFergus held his hand out, Kellensey’s thumb over the trigger.

Suddenly the shot, the tank let loose the fire from hell and knocked another chunk of the wall sky high. MacFergus dropped his hand as the shells hit the wall and Kellensey was quick on the trigger as the Ranger’s little segment of wall blew almost in unison. A quite bigger explosion than MacFergus remembered from last time, his ears rang quite badly.

The men made movements through the breach, SMG’s pointed forward. Suddenly MacFergus was on automatic. Leading his men with unison, and clear perception without the need for fear or worry or the battle raging.

The men moved through the breach three at a time and quickly spread out, firing in quick bursts at every native they saw. Most on the opposite wall in the fire fight with the main Ivernish troops never stood a chance. They died with a bullet in their backs. The Rangers are not known for honour. They were known for victory.

MacFergus led Kellensey, Tierney, Jervis and the rest of Team Alpha directly through the chaos. Moving in unpredictable patterns between the huts, the Alpha team made their way to the center with the stone house. It was clear the Natives had figured out they were being flanked, as they started firing back across the way. Fired at from their front and back, the Ivernish Soldiers and two of the Ranger teams had the Natives pinned. Pinned under semi automatics and tank fire, the Natives were beginning to finally lose hope and drop their weapons.

MacFergus led his Alpha Rangers to the center stone house. Built higher than any other piece of architecture in the fort, two floors high. Under direct orders to be taken, not blown to pieces by tank fire. The Rangers rushed the door, kicking it over. No time to think - only trust their muscle memory, the Rangers checked, aimed, and shot, the two men guarding the door. The men fell to the ground screaming trying to hold together the blood pouring from their wounds. The natives raised their guns up, and so were put down. MacFergus slowly made his way to the stairs.

The din from the background, the constant gunfire, was subsiding. The battle was beginning to end. MacFergus and his team kept their guard up. With half left on the ground floor, MacFergus made his way slowly up the stairs. Whoever was up there was a rat caught in a barrel. No doubt dangerous.

''Hey hey! Down there! Don’t shoot! I am surrendering.’’

MacFergus couldn't believe his ears. Whoever was upstairs was speaking Ivernish. Even more mystifying was that he was fluent. He even had an Estrian dialect.

''Hands behind your head, get on your knees now!’’

''Okay, okay, you win, I surrender.’’

Mac Fergus made the rest of the way up the stairs. Jervis and Kellensey on his flanks they entered the up stairs room. Leaflets, maps and all sort of apparatus made clear this was the center of operations. In the center in front of a large desk was a man on his knees. A white man. Short with slick gelled back black hair. In a long black coat, and black clothes that should surely be sweltering. The man was something like in his 40’s and indeed sweating, but he didn’t seem to be scared. The man resonated a calm yet malicious air.

''You stay exactly where you are. Kellensey - gun on the man.’’

MacFergus lowered his SMG as he approached the illusive man. ''You’re in quite the interesting location you are. I suppose you’re about to tell me you’re a prisoner?’’

The sweaty man looked up almost confused. ‘’Prisoner? What are you talking about? Aren’t you here for me? Don’t tell me you just stumbled on to me did you?’’ The little man’s lips began to curl.

MacFergus scanned the desk. Leaflets. Maps. It’s as if the Ranger in him was so tuned and focused he forgot everything but the kill. He looked clearly, the leaflets were-

''The Estrian Revolutionary Front? This is terrorist-communist propaganda - all of it. They want to bring about the Kyvian Dawn.’’

The little man in the black coat stifled a chuckle.

''So that’s it? You’re just some red-letter-spreader?’’

''MacFergus sir, check the back. They were printed in 44 Carpenter’s Street? Wasn’t that the building that was bombed in Portsior back last year?’’

Jervis was right, printed in a building that was destroyed half a year ago.

‘’Heh so you think you have me pinned eh? Got the tag all set and ready to go do you?’’ The man guffawed.

The little man in the black coat was almost enjoying the little game, watching the Rangers pour over the desk.

As the gun shots ended, so did MacFergus become himself proper. That when he saw it on the wall.

It was the Emerald Eagle of Ivernia, the most important symbol to all Gaels. But the image was wrong. The eagle was distorted, it’s graceful plumage made hard and it’s wings straight like bars of iron. MacFergus knew that symbol, though it was not yet well known to the public.

Many dismissed Gothic Fascism, but homeland Rangers talked of them recurring in Estria. A sort of counter to the revolutionaries.

He turned again to the little sweating illusive man in the black coat.

''Extremist-communist leaflets from a blown-out red den. The Gothic Fascist shit on the walls? What the fuck is going on here? Who the fuck are you?’’ MacFergus almost lost his cool as he gave the man a hard poke with the front of his SMG.

All the little man did was begin to laugh, as more Ivernish troops began coming up the stairs.